The Point of No Return

In every life, there are points of no return.  Some moments are imposing and some are so insignificant that you hardly remember them happening at all. 

We all have moments that shift us—unnoticeable at first, but sustainable enough to ripple the fabric of our own life as well as that of others. 

I oscillated through these thoughts while watching my two favorite Oberlin High School marching band kids perform on the field last Friday night.  In the moment, I quietly chastised myself for having thoughts any deeper than my usual contemplations of what’s for dinner or did I remember to put on deodorant under both arms.

My love for my kids chokes me up at the most random of times.  But it seems that the high school football field is the portal to the mushy mom I hardly know.

When Mayle was in high school, most halftime shows I would watch from the wrong side of the fence.  It was almost miraculous that she was even able to carry the oversized drum on her five-foot frame. I would swallow the lump in my throat by pushing my face deeper into the spaces of the chain link fence that separated us. Watching her little legs pump in excitement to keep up with the band was almost a metaphor for what our life together had been.  Watching her on the field her senior year was a kind of recompense for the senior year I forfeited when I got pregnant with her. 

She made me proud.

Now that I’ve graduated to the other side of the fence, I find I am still moved as I watch Stancey, toes pointed, and for this season, trombone swinging. 

Moved, maybe just a little bit more, is when I watch Madison as he dips and turns his tuba in moves not necessarily instinctive to his heavier build.  Band, for him, has not been as easy as it was for his sisters—socially, physically, or musically.  But like the Nike kid—he’s discovering his greatness.  For him, he’s on the cusp, and his ripple, I know, will have lasting impact.

I love that, so far, three of my children have found a place where peculiarities are accepted and their band director has the patience (or compromised sanity) to let them stumble, trip, and someday leap from the point of no return to greatness. Because in the end, perhaps more important than finding that safe place to land is finding that safe place from which to leap.